newspaper well-wishes
by what a lovely way to burn
Summary: — friends make everything better.


**_author's_ **_**notes:** written for les (strawberry snicket) through the gift-giving extravaganza 2019_. I'M SO SORRY THIS IS LATE! _prompt(s) will be at the bottom_.

**_p.s._**_ as with many of my fics, if you're not a member of the forum from which these ideas originated and where they are commonplace topics, you will likely think me bonkers. (you're not entirely wrong.)_

_**p.p.s.**_ _happy very belated birthday, dementor! ily and i hope fifteen is a magical number for you_.

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**newspaper well-wishes**

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Credence woke up drenched in sweat. He threw off the (admittedly threadbare) blanket and crossed the room in three steps to the window, which he cracked open to allow the cold night air to dry his skin and damp hair.

Once cool enough, he immediately closed it again, as it was one of many rules that Mary Lou had. Anyone who broke a rule had to eat pea soup every meal for two weeks — even on the weekends. On Saturdays, Mary Lou made some sort of meat; it was usually either nearly raw or way over cooked, but it was at least better than the same, basic pea soup. On Sundays, she would put it in weekly leftover soup and it served as a treat for the hard-workers and those who hadn't broken any rules. No one wanted to miss the meal change, so no one ever broke a Mary Lou Law — or got caught breaking one, anyway.

Credence crossed back to his bed and curled up again, ignoring the stiffness in his hand joints from the combination of belt and cold air. Tucking his blanket back around himself, he allowed dreams of freedom carry him back into slumber.

•

He woke up barely an hour and a half later, once again sweating profusely. His throat was dry and sore, and his lips were cracked from breathing through his mouth. His nose was completely stuffed.

He climbed out of bed and crept out into the narrow hallway. Many of the floorboards creaked, so he relied heavily on the walls, as he dared not disturb Modesty or Chastity — or, Merlin forbid, Mary Lou before he could wake her himself.

"Ma?" he whispered when he reached her door. It was opened just a crack, as usual. He pushed it open further and slipped inside, closing it with a soft _snick_ behind him.

Mary Lou was sitting up in bed against her single pillow in its yellow pillowcase that she'd had as long as Credence could remember. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice more tired and less snappish than it was normally.

"I don't feel so good, Ma. I think I'm sick."

She scowled. "What have you been doing to make yourself sick? Standing outside in the cold like an orphan?"

Credence stared at the floor. "I don't know what's wrong, Ma. I haven't done anything."

"Go downstairs and heat yourself up some soup," Mary Lou ordered. "I'll see what's the matter with you come morning."

"Yes, Ma," Credence said, defeated. He should have known better than to expect anything more than the equivalent of "just cope" from Mary Lou.

"And shut the door behind you," she added. "Were you born in a barn?"

He didn't reply as he shuffled back out and closed the door.

•

When he woke a few hours later, there was a bowl of barely warm soup on the floor beside his door along with a note.

_Don't get used to it_.

"Thanks, Ma," he mumbled, taking a bite of soup. "I don't think the one time is enough to become much of a habit."

•

Credence hated being sick. He was got sick so rarely — perhaps once a year or so — and never with anything very dangerous. (It was probably for the best, as Mary Lou's home remedies for even the slightest colds were extreme, and she would most likely throw him out if he was likely to contaminate anyone.)

On top of that, Mary Lou had the annoying habit of forcing even more pea soup onto him when he was sick. It was almost enough to make up for him not being sick often. The thick soup irritated his already sore throat, and the lukewarm temperature of the soup did nothing to warm up his shivering body nor was the bowl cool enough to press to his feverish forehead.

Everything was wrong in Credence's world. Not even the weekend meals cheered him up; when the meat was left outside his door on Saturday, he ended up leaving tiny morsels of it across his open windowsill and leaning against the wall behind his bed to watch as little birds swooped in and snatched the pieces up. Some birds turned up their tiny beaks at the offerings and flew away again, leaving Credence smiling after them at the fact that even creatures from the animal kingdom wouldn't eat Mary Lou's cooking.

Modesty crept in to see him while Mary Lou was out with Chastity and the other orphans. She silently handed him a scrap of paper folded in two along with a small piece of bread in a paper cup, then placed a cool hand on Credence's forehead and left again.

The paper scrap looked to have been torn from the blank edge of a newspaper, and Modesty must have asked someone to write her message, for it said _Get well soon_! in neat handwriting that was far from her own, childish, misspelled print. The piece of bread wasn't large — though nor was it tiny — and the little paper cup led Credence to assume she'd gathered it during an outing from a street vendor handing out samples.

The visits from his littlest sister continued from that day onward until Credence regained his former health — not that that was much better. Modesty snuck in every day when she got back from her shift and Mary Lou went out, always bringing the same two offerings. She even learned how to write her own messages on the newspaper scraps.

They grew closer than ever those few days that Credence was sick. Not much was ever spoken, but words weren't needed. All they needed was comfort from someone on their side.

The Barebones' home life was never going to be perfect, but a friend made it so much better.

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_word count: 977_

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**gge prompts**

(theme) forum fic


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